


Scarves

by 89JadedPictures



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, New York, Romance, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 02:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12122583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/89JadedPictures/pseuds/89JadedPictures
Summary: Draco is on business in New York. Hermione now works for MACUSA. They spend an evening skating at The Rink at Rockefeller Center.





	Scarves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [I_was_BOTWP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_was_BOTWP/gifts).



> A/N: My OTP is Dramione, but I have no strictly Dramione fics. So, I asked my BETA for a prompt, and this was what came of that. Thank her. I do!
> 
> Prompt: Hermione takes a job with MACUSA after breaking up with Ron, Draco is in NYC for business, Christmas time at Rockefeller Center, scarves.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own HP.

She stood on the snowy sidewalk, staring at scarves through a flamboyantly decorated store-front window. It was different than when last he saw her, in that she’d been staring at a book display in Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley. 

They currently stood on the cobbles of 5th Ave in Muggle Manhattan, New York City, New York, USA, at 8:30 p.m. on the 22nd of December, 2003. 

The moment in Diagon Alley had been four years prior, right before she’d left to Africa for University. Draco had stayed behind in Europe to take a year-long apprenticeship for his Potions Mastery in Belgium, then immediately left for Greece to attain his Mastery in Alchemy, which also took a year. 

When he returned home, it was only to learn that Ron Weasley had ended his two-year relationship with her after she decided to join MACUSA as an Auror, rather than her staying in England and doing so there, or even him transplanting himself abroad to be with her. The Malfoy heir would later learn that she’d gone to Africa to study Charms, but something had happened there that changed her mind about her future, and she switched her focus back to punishing the world’s wrongdoers. 

The fact that Weasley had let her leave without first following her to the edge of the Earth and back was a mistake Draco would have never made. He would not have let her leave without him, no matter his ties.

No. Draco had not followed Hermione to New York. He was there for business. Vox-Lumos, a world-renowned Magical beauty conglomerate based in the Big Apple, had practically been beside themselves to put the Alchemist’s scar-removal serum on their shelves, but it had taken a good two months of negotiating to settle on a deal, and then you take into account production and proper packaging. After five months, he was once again in the metal Mecca, but this time to close up the last bits of his deal with Vox-Lumos. 

The first time he’d been there a half a year ago, he’d considered looking up his former school-mate, but he, Draco Malfoy, could not come up with what he felt to be sufficient reasoning to reach out to the woman he’d been so terrible to in their youth. 

Now. Now, he could do so. 

Their convergence was no doubt serendipitous, for the likelihood of the two of them running into each other on a cold, snowy night in Muggle New York, during the three days he was scheduled to be there,, was truly low. New York had a huge Magical district, and it would have been more likely they would see each other there, or perhaps even in the Woolworth Building upon his arrival or departure, but there she was… staring at scarves while snow fell onto her curls, her hand holding the laces to a pair of ice-skates; a black pee-coat, cap, jeans, and gloves, white fur boots, and, of course, her Gryffindor scarf around her neck, whilst contemplating the ones beyond the glass.

He took a deep breath before strolling up to stand beside her, moving slowly as if he were just another passer-by. He caught her reflection in the clear pane, but she was too busy gandering- leaning slightly this way and that- and acting like a New Yorker by not caring to acknowledge who stood beside her. He studied her, however, taking in the changes in the lines of her face, noting how age had made her look both beautiful and wise, something she’d already been, but now somehow grander.

After fifteen or so seconds of her continued ignorance to his presence, he pointed to a thick golden scarf in the display and said in a pleasant tone, “I do believe that one would look best on you.” She did not turn to look at him or respond, so Draco dared go on, “If you plan on ice-skating, you might want to consider snatching it up, Granger.”

“I’d thank you for your suggestion, Malfoy, but you should know I’ve never favored your opinion on anything,” was her easily snipped reply. 

He blinked at her, gob smacked by her tone, and he could not help but say, “And here I thought I was going to succeed in sneaking up on America’s finest.”

“America’s finest knew you were coming two weeks ago when you sent in your request for an international Portkey, Death Eater,” she answered, her eyes still intent on a dark grey scarf with perfectly tattered ends. “There is not one questionable person who enters this city without my knowing it.” At this she turned to face him, and with a small smile on her lips at his justified surprise, she asked, “How are you enjoying your time in the Big Apple? Have your business affairs been handled?”

Draco felt his face begin to convey his emotions; the surprise, the curiosity, the disbelief. He should have known, really, that his name would have come up to someone State-side, but he didn’t realize he was still considered so much of a threat, what with his acquittal five years prior, that he needed to be screened. 

With many a question on his tongue, he only managed to form, “Keeping tabs on me, are you?”

She gave him a smirk, and answered, “It’s my job as Deputy Head Auror to be just as knowledgeable as the Head Auror. So, yes, I have been keeping tabs on you.”

“Deputy Head Auror?” he asked her with a brow drawn in inquisition. “That sounds like an important position. Haven’t you only been here two years?”

“Keeping a few tabs of your own, I see,” she mused with a lift of her own brow, moving her skates over her shoulder so that she could cross her arms under her breasts. “And, yes. I’ve been here two years, but, as history has proven, I excelled quickly. It may annoy some of my colleagues, but the statistics don’t lie.”

“Ah. Still flying people up the wall, I see,” he responded, getting his smirk back after having it stricken by her brash comebacks. Her amusement didn’t falter at his response, so he added for good measure, “It’s been very refreshing knowing that England hasn’t been under the burden of your good-will, since it seems you’ve made quite a name by doing so here. Home has been quite peaceful without you.”

“Aw,” she mock pouted. “Do you miss me already?”

He did not know what made him do so, but he answered honestly, “Naturally.” She blinked at him, it now being her turn to look shocked, and he quickly recovered, “Uh- are you headed for The Rink?”

She gave him a few more blinks before she lightly nodded her head. “Yes. Isn’t it obvious?” She held up the pair of pristine white skates in her hand.

“Have you done much ice-skating?” he asked.

She nodded again. “I used to every Christmas Holiday until sixth year. I started going again last year.”

It was his turn to nod, and he glanced away from her for a moment before he decided to take a stab in the dark; before he decided that the world did not put them there in that spot to have a short, verbal mano-a-mano, and then part ways to possibly never see each other again. 

With the same unease that had taken him whilst he’d considered owling her six months ago, he was able to say with a lot more confidence than he felt, “I was heading to the Center myself. Do you mind if I join you for your skate?”

He really had been on his way to Rockefeller Center, and had planned to do some sightseeing, including The Rink. If they were both headed that way, then why not? Whenever would he have another opportunity to ask her for her time without the pressure of the presence of others? 

Never. 

The time was now.

She bit her bottom lip as she looked up at him through the falling flakes, the golden Christmas lights illuminating the brown of her eyes, the cold painting a light flush on her cheeks, and he waited with baited breath until she finally answered, “I wouldn’t mind that at all… Do you do much skating?”

“I do,” he admitted, trying like hell not to look as excited as he felt at her assent. “I can conjure my skates from home on the way. I’m not big on renting and wearing shoes thousands of others have worn.”

“I could imagine,” she said while giving him an off smile, as if the sensation to bestow him with such a gesture was strange to her face, before saying, “We should get there soon so we can get tickets for the next session.” And then turned to begin leading them to their destination. 

However, Draco was not ready to be on his way, and he said to her back, “Give me a minute,” before walking into the store that peddled the neckwear, and he heard her call, “Malfoy! What are you-“, before the door closed behind him and the sound of chatter and Christmas music drowned her out. 

He exited the store three minutes later, having cut in the line of some fifty patrons to request that he be helped immediately. The brunette behind the counter had done so, post haste, and not one out of the group of mostly female consumers behind him seemed to bat an eye at this. 

Draco tried handing Hermione the thick, grey scarf with the tattered ends, but she did not move to take it, wearing a frown, and Draco, being aware that her reaction would be negative, already had a speech prepared, 

“Take it, Granger. It doesn’t mean shite. I’m not trying to buy your friendship, nor am I saying sorry for anything, because there are no words that could express the level of my regret for past transgressions, and there are no gifts that could make up for any of them, so don’t even bother assuming that’s my motive. It’s Christmas. It’s a bloody scarf. Just take it.”

He moved his hands to the ends of the scarf and flung it up and over her head, where he helped it settle around her shoulders, and wrapped one end over her left shoulder, right over the red and gold of her old scarf. It looked good on her, and he marveled at her for only a second before moving to walk past her and in the direction of the rink.

She, who had once again grown silent, fell into step beside him a few seconds later and muttered just loud enough for him to hear, “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome,” he muttered back, feeling momentarily sheepish at his impulsiveness, but did his best to keep her from noticing. She seemed to be hiding her own feelings by looking at her feet, letting her hair fall and cover her face from his view. 

The next fifteen minutes were spent in an awkward silence, she obviously having no more questions- which he found most unlike her- and he kept quiet as well, which was not a foreign state of being for the Slytherin alum. Snakes often waited in silence; assessing first, striking second.

But, this was Hermione Granger he was considering sparking up small-talk with, someone he’d never had the pleasure of doing so with before. He’d dreamed of it, in the confines of his mind, but had never been able to think of anything to say that sounded casual. Picking on her, vexing her, or even sneaking up and saying something about scarves to raise a reaction from her, normal. Commenting idly on the weather, not normal. 

His speech about his reasoning for getting her the scarf, and the reasoning behind why she should accept it, had already touched the tips of deep, deep, deep icebergs, so he quickly decided he wasn’t allowed to chose their conversational topic, and had resorted to only whispering a conjuring spell for his skates in a moment when they’d been tightly tucked into a crowd of people waiting for the streetlight to signal it was safe to cross East 42nd Street. 

As the two reached the extravagantly decorated rink, every tree covered in lights and massive gold and red ornaments, topped with brightly glowing stars, Draco followed Hermione to stand in the cue for their tickets. When they’d made their purchase, and the teller had informed them they had over an hour’s wait until the next session at 10:30, she turned to him to ask,

“Would you care to get a tea? Or coffee?”

Draco found no reason to deny her offer, so he nodded his acquiescence before she led them near a block away, and he followed her into a warm, brightly lit, coffee shop. He waited for her to order before he ordered his own, and when they had their hot drinks in hand they found a table to sit at.

Before too many seconds could tick by, she inquired, “So what business do you have that would bring you to New York?”

He blew into his tea to cool it off before answering, “Vox-Lumos has decided to sell a scar-removal serum I created a year back.”

She nodded thoughtfully, before saying, “It must be good for a company as renowned as Vox-Lumos to agree to take you on.”

“I took them on, actually,” he said with a hint of smug that was all too Draco Malfoy, which made her smirk at him. “They asked to have it after a demonstration I did at a conference last year. It will most likely be the biggest contract I will make with that product, and it was the first, so I guess you can say I’ve already “made it”. Just like you seemed to have already “made it”. Isn’t the next promotion for you Head Auror?”

She gave a small laugh, and nodded as she blew on her coffee. “Yes. It is. But Head Auror Phillips does not plan on retiring for another ten years, so I have at least that long to wait for the opportunity.”

“By then they’ll be begging you to take the position,” he commented. 

She lifted a brow, and asked, “Do you think? I almost thought they’d never take an Englishwoman as Head of Law Enforcement.”

“They’d be depriving themselves of the best if they didn’t,” he added easily, not caring about his complimentary statement. He did not make eye-contact with her while saying this, though.

“Really? The best?” she asked, her voice thick with curiosity.

He looked up at her at her question, and he stated, “Yes. The best... Does it bother you that I think you the perfect candidate for such a position? If you’ve retained any of your intelligence, will, and tenacity, then you surely deserve it. Your aptitude may have driven me insane when we were younger, but that only confirms that I did, in fact, know you to be far more capable than the rest of us.” 

She gave another small laugh, with a smile that seemed more relaxed than its predecessors, and she sat forward as she boldly asked, “Are you flirting with me? I almost didn’t think it true until just now.”

He shrugged and said into his tea before taking a sip, “And here I thought you were the most intelligent person I’d ever met.”

She scoffed, but did not lose her smile, as she responded with a laugh on her lips, “Well, excuse me for thinking the occurrence simply impossible. You do realize I’m Hermione Granger, and you’re Draco Malfoy, right?”

He set his eyes to hers before saying honestly, “Of course I do. But do you think I care about our names anymore?” She paused, her smile fading, shrugging at him as disbelief and shock settled in her features. “I don’t. None of that has mattered, not ever, not even during the war. What has always mattered is one’s capacity as a witch or wizard, and what they chose to do with what they’ve been given.

“I will forgive you your assumption,” he went on as he turned from his leisurely recline in his chair to face her fully, “for I have given you no other reason than to believe the likelihood of my finding you worthy of positive attention beyond probable. But that is not true. However, if you wish for me to stop saying kind things to you, you need only ask.”

She blinked at him for a half a minute in tight-jawed silence, the blond man not being able to discern her face’s emotional foray, while also not being able to break the staring contest they had fallen into. He knew that if he looked away she would question his sincerity, so he fixed his gaze to hers until she finally managed, 

“It would be undoubtedly wise of you to stop saying those things.” He was going to apologize here, but she raised a hand to quiet him as she added, “But I won’t be telling you to. If you stop, it will be of your own accord.”

He sat back in his chair, his eyes still on hers as he asked, “Why would it be wise of me to stop, though you do not wish me to?”

She took in a deep breath that drew and dropped her shoulders before simply stating, “Because you’re only here one more day, and I decided long ago that this is where I’m supposed to be.”

“I’m not Weasley,” he said quickly, his mind instantly telling him that the only problem she seemed to have about winning his favor was the width of the Atlantic Ocean. 

His comment earned him a wide-eyed stare, and he went on in her silence, “But that is neither here nor there. I understand you are a planner of the future; that you consider all possible avenues before embarking upon a set course. I am not asking you for your future, Hermione. In fact, I’ve already gotten all that I could have asked for in this situation… Your allowing me the pleasure of your company has been more than I could have dreamed.

“So,” he said, standing with his tea and his skates, looking down at her where she stared at him, “if you do not mind, I’d like to make the most of the time I’ve been given.” He switched his cup to hand where the laces of his skates rested, and he held out his free hand to assist her in standing. 

At first she did not take it, glancing between his eyes and his hand as her mind worked through what he had just said. But, eventually, she decided to accept his hand, and let him pull her to her feet, and it lingered for another second or two as he began to walk them to the door, and she slipped her hand from his. 

No more was said between them until they were on the ice, having finished their drinks and donned their skates in silence. Draco had more on his mind then than he had during his business meeting. Specs and statistics and money had nothing on processing the admission of his wanting to spend time with her, and her acceptance of his claims, and even the possible reciprocation of his feelings. 

The idea made his head spin, and he’d been so trapped in his thoughts that he almost didn’t register her asking, “So why scar removal? Out of all of the things a capable alchemist could create, why that?”

He shrugged lightly, ignoring the near condescending tone of her question, replying, “It was something I’d wanted to try for a number of years. I figured it would be a good stepping-stone on the path to bigger and better opportunities. Thus far, it’s proven to have been an inspired notion.”

“I’d say,” she said with a smile, her eyes face front as they moved behind a large group of loud, laughing friends. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not judging your decision. It would just seem to me, if you are anything like the Draco Malfoy from back in the day that you would have started big. Perhaps found a cure for Dragon Pox, or found a way to remove Dark Marks instead of scars.”

He gave a short puff of air from his nose that verged on a sardonic scoff before answering, “I will admit that my ambition has not left me, I just assumed that starting small was the opposite of what I was used to doing, and since my previous actions had proven detrimental, I figured I would do something from a different approach. 

“And, just so that you know, I would never help anyone remove their Dark Mark.” She looked up at him at this, a curious furrow to her brow. “If they didn’t want to be burdened by it their entire lifetimes, they shouldn’t have gotten in the first place.”

“So you still have it?” she asked.

He nodded the affirmative. “I do. And I always will. It reminds me of what is, and what should never be.”

She gave him a lasting look, one that saw fit to sneak its way into his heart, and she said softly, “It’s good to see you, Malfoy.”

He smiled at her at this, and she returned it while he replied, “It’s good to see you, too, Granger.”


End file.
